Ink Trails
by Miss Rhapsody
Summary: [Oneshot] She peered down into the glistening water below. She wished, as she did everyday for someone to love her, for she was a lonely fairy.


Title: Ink Trails  
  
Author: Rhapsody  
  
Summary: She peered down into the glistening water below. She wished, as she did everyday for someone to love her, for she was a lonely fairy. Harry/Hermione  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I am in love. It may be stupid to be so blunt, but what the hell, I am in love. I don't think I even noticed it until now. It just struck me, like magic! Maybe it is magic...  
  
"Harry, could please pass me that bottle of ink," you ask me casually.  
  
I pick up the bottle, look at it nonchalantly and hand it to you. You take it from me and your hand momentarily brushes mine. You smile at me and lift an eyebrow at my probably very blank look and then return to your work.  
  
I've always had the horrible habit of doing things like that. I'll meet your eyes or touch your hand and I'll just blank out. This wonderful feeling of lightheadedness always accompanies the little spells, in which I depart from my body and soar in blissfulness.  
  
Moments later you beckon me again. I am pulled back into my body, which I gladly return to, as long as my body is with you.  
  
"Harry, love, can you spare your quill? the tip on mine broke. I seemed to have pressed it so hard upon the paper that it snapped off," you look flustered, in the most adorable way. I feel the familiar knot form in my throat as I realize that you inadvertently called me "love".  
  
Is love even a healthy emotion. Now that I think of it I almost feel stupid for getting this way around her. It seems to me that nothing that brings on totally idiocy should be thought of as a good thing. But I am yet again pulled out of my muddled daydreams by your sweet voice once again.  
  
"Harry, am I bothering you?" you ask, giving me an adorable look, "shall I go back to the library and work there, and give you some peace."  
  
"No!" comes out of my mouth louder than expected and you look startled.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Why yes, of course. You can't go! Stay here with me, I'm glad to be around you. you aren't bothering me one bit, not at all..." I notice I am rambling and stop my babble.  
  
I watch as you return to your work and my quill scratches tiny ink trails all over the parchment in front of you. I watch the little paths meet and flow smoothly into the shape of your elegant handwriting.  
  
You mumble softly as you write. Your mouth forms the words as you write them. Tiny sounds emit from your mouth occasionally, but they are faint and barely noticeable. I like to watch you talk. Your lips move effortlessly and unconsciously as the words dance upon the page like a ballerina.  
  
I wonder what it would be like to feel those lips. I imagine that they would be as soft as your pretty hands. Your hands have always surprised me. Despite the bitten down nails and ink stains they remain soft and graceful. I guess your lips would be like that too.  
  
As you murmur softly I an entranced by your existence. Just you being there throws me into a wonderful, mysterious place. Whenever I'm there I feel as if all my dreams could come true.  
  
"I'm done!" you look at me smiling, and once again breaking my train of thought.  
  
"What have you written?"  
  
"A story."  
  
My curiosity gets the better of me and I venture to inquire further, "Will you read it to me?"  
  
You pause, setting my quill upon the table and pick up the sheet of parchment. The ink on the bottom half glistens in the light as the parchment moves. The beautiful script in which it was written seems to smile at the reader. It's funny how even your hand writing is warm and inviting. It seems everything about you is perfect.  
  
"The sunlight illuminated the beautiful glade in which the fairy stood. She sighed as she walked to the center of the glade and peered into the well which stood in the middle. She peered down into the glistening water below. She wished, as she did everyday for someone to love her, for she was a lonely fairy. Then she lowered her bucket into the rippling water and scooped out enough to last her the day.  
  
"As she left the glade she noticed a handsome young fellow had been watching her from afar. He approached her slowly. He had emerald eyes that danced and sparkled. She looked upon him with her brown fairy eyes and smiled sweetly."  
  
You pause and I realize what this story is about. You continue slowly.  
  
"She placed her water bucket on the ground and felt a wonderful feeling come over her, like a fresh spring rain. 'Are you my wish?' she asked, 'are you the one I wished for?' He looked at her, his eyes gleaming. She didn't know what else to say. A sudden sadness came over the fairy as she realized this gentleman obviously couldn't be her wish. He was too good to be true..."  
  
I was right. Your lips are as smooth as I thought they would be. You look at me with the most startled expression as the parchment falls to the ground, ink still glittering. I hope I have done the right thing.  
  
You kiss me. Your lips meet mine for the second time, still soft, still wonderful. I find myself plunged into that happy place again, but it seems infinite times better. You pull back and I try and find my voice.  
  
"But the story is inaccurate," I say meeting your softened gaze, "the gentleman is not to good to be true," I pause, "but the fairy is." 


End file.
